Cloudy with a Chance of Crazy
by latenightrain
Summary: A super-belated Halloween Challenge: A "followup to the grave-digging scene" M/L, S1, a bit off the deep end!


**CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF CRAZY**

Perhaps it was a side effect of his usually caffeine-infused state, but Logan almost always awoke with a start, a sudden jolt into the reality of the day. It was a surprise then, that morning, when he became dimly aware of surroundings even before he opened his eyes. His face was cold, so cold that when he brought his hand up to touch it, the skin felt icy. The air smelled of gunpowder; a faint burnt smell that seemed to be all around him.

Instinctively, Logan drew his hand up to his chest and fingered the torn fragments of his jacket, stirring up the burnt smell again.

After the police had interrogated them and the paramedics had left, he and Max had waited for the tow truck to load up the Aztek. They then silently climbed into the cab of the truck. The presence of the tow truck driver had made it hard for them to talk about the events of the last 72 hours, but Logan doubted they would have done much talking even if they had been alone. The truck had dropped them off at the nearest small town, an auto repair shop at one end of the street and an old motel at the other end.

They stumbled into a room which looked like it hadn't been touched in a year. The caretaker apologized for the lack of heat, but they were still waiting on a shipment of coal and he doubted it would be in for another week.

Max, still weary and slightly shaky from her seizures, had caught his eye and had smiled faintly at him.

"Sorry, I don't seem good for much of anything tonight, Logan."

"Not like I do this every day. The shooting… the stabbing. He regretted his light tone even as the words left his lips. He went on more gently, "Even you wouldn't object to a little shut eye tonight, would you?"

Instead of answering, Max pulled back the covers of the bed and lay down, without even glancing at the gray sheets. Logan fished his jacket out of the plastic bag the paramedics had given him and put it on, shotgun holes and all. He pulled himself into the bed and drew the covers over both of them. Frost had been creeping up the windows when Logan had looked over at Max lying beside him. She had already fallen asleep, her hand still trembling slightly under the blanket.

He didn't remember falling asleep. Still, he must have slept somehow.

Logan opened his eyes with a start. He glanced down at head of dark curls that lay against his chest. The gray light was just starting to slant through the frosted window.

It was barely light. Something must have woken him up.

Someone was pounding on the door.

"Hey, you in there? Took me a whole night of checking every garage in town. You're needed back at the crime scene, A.S.A.P. Both of you."

"Hurry up."

______________________________________________________________________

Logan cursed the stammering sheriff for interrupting his effort to doze a few more minutes with the beautiful Max next to him. With chattering teeth and numb fingers, Logan woke Max who sat up groggily. It was a testament to how badly the seizures had affected her that she barely flinched when Logan first tried to awaken her.

"It's a good thing we already have all our clothes on, since it was so damn cold in here last night," Logan muttered, reaching for his chair.

______________________________________________________________________

"Police went to exhume the bodies of the Gilans. Seems there were some other boys helping B.C, Benny and Clyde. They wanted to make sure they nailed 'em. Found something they wanted you to see." The deputy glanced over his shoulder and pulled onto the road.

"If you're gonna haul us out of bed and drag us back to Haven, you've got to have a better explanation than that," Logan said, drumming his fingers on the dashboard.

"You know as much as I do." With that, the tight-lipped deputy gunned the engine and refused to say any more for the rest of the ride.

When they pulled up to the gravesite, overlooking the lake, Logan pushed open the door and started to put the wheels on his chair.

"Whoa there. Boss says they only need the little lady here."

"I'm not leaving her with you," Logan shot back. "You can see how tired she is."

Max had gotten out of the back seat and thrown the blanket off her shoulders and onto the seat. Now, she clasped her hands together and stretched them over her head.

"It's okay, Logan. I believe I can handle myself all right. Amazing what a good night's sleep can do."

Indeed, the color had returned to Max's face and she tossed her head in the direction of the huddle of officers.

"I believe I can handle myself," she repeated. "No reason why at least one of us can't read a book over a good hot breakfast this morning."

Logan glared at Max. Then, tucking his chair back beside him, he leaned back against the seat of the car and shrugged.

"Fine," he sighed. "Drop me in town."

______________________________________________________________________

"Right this way, ma'am. Sorry about your friend, but the boss says he's getting ready to turn the case over to the feds. Some special ops agent told them not get a single person involved who wasn't 'absolutely necessary'. Seems like you'd want to keep your friend out of it, if possible."

"Oh, I don't know," Max said to herself. "Seems like he handled himself pretty well too."

The uniformed officer led Max up the hill to a cluster of men who were warming their hands over cups of coffee.

Max could see the two holes in the ground, the excavated dirt in two neat piles next to them.

The circle of men opened up to face her and she backed away reflexively, eyeing their holstered weapons. The young deputy who had spoken to them the night before offered his hand.

"Sorry to drag you back here, but we thought you might be able to shed some light on our…situation," he began nervously.

Max raised an eyebrow, "What'd your coroner think of the bodies? Any usable evidence?"

"That's just it. I…I think you had better just see it yourself."

Next to the gravesite, the coroner's office had set up a makeshift tent. Sitting on a pallet on the ground was the coffin…or what was left of it. The lid looked amazingly intact, except for some water damage, but the sides looked all but destroyed. There was hardly any wood left of the sides of the coffin, except the thicker corners that held it together, but what remained looked like it had been punched over and over with a 10-inch hole punch. Some the edges looked rotted, but the outline of the clear 10-inch circles could still be seen. The inside of the coffin looked to be filled entirely with dirt, dark brown, almost black, tumbling out of the holes.

"What do you make of it?" the deputy hovered over Max's shoulder.

"How should I know?" Max answered warily, the group of armed officers still milling around.

"It's just that," the deputy paused, waving at the coroner to help him lift the coffin lid, "the guy from the feds said that you might be able to tell us something about this symbol."

The two men lifted the heavy lid, causing a cascade of crumbly black soil to rain onto Max's shoes. Folded neatly on top of the dirt was a black nylon jumpsuit, zipped and neatly folded. Set of dog tags lay on it. The side facing up had an irregular pattern of think and thin black lines on it. Before the deputy had a chance to stop her, Max reached out and turned the metal plate over. Her hand froze, hovering over the tags. After a moment, she pulled her hand back.

"As I was saying," the deputy continued, "the feds heard about the murder, although I don't know how they could have possibly known so quickly. They said not tell anyone, but I couldn't resist getting you to come back to give me your opinion. After all, I want to look like I'd gotten _some_ intelligent answers on my own."

Max tossed her head, "Well, I guess now we all know that this idea of dragging us back here was just a colossal waste of time."

The coroner let the coffin lid slam down again.

At that moment, lightning flashed across the sky and lit up the hillside. Max glanced up. She had been so engrossed in what the coroner was showing her that she hadn't noticed the sky growing darker. A tide of black clouds swept across the sky. The light grew dim, the darkness broken only by the rare flash of lightning. The officers knew a Seattle thunderstorm when they saw it. Even the strongest downpour hardly bothered them, but they knew better than to stay outdoors in lightning.

"What about the other body?" Max yelled over the rising wind.

"We couldn't get the other coffin out," the deputy answered. "Hell, we couldn't even see it. The whole thing's been encased in its entirety with roots."

"Roots of what?"

"How the hell should I know. There isn't even a tree on this ridge, just grass. Maybe someone cut the tree down, and only the roots are left, but they looked pretty alive to me," the deputy continued.

"Let's get out of here. You can ride with me, ma'am," he offered generously.

Max seized her opportunity. "Oh yeah, I think I left my bag up top…and I told Officer Banks I'd ride back with him," Max yelled over the wind, recalling one of the officers' name tags. The deputy hesitated a moment, but as the first fat raindrops fell, he nodded and joined the other cops as they scattered and headed back to their cars.

Max ducked behind a tree and waited for the last patrol car to make its way around the corner.

Max ran back toward the open gravesites. She might only have a little while before the officer discovered she was gone. The bare earth had become a mud slick in only a few minutes. She approached the open holes slowly, pushing her soaked hair back from her face.

"Logan, you are _so _going to owe me a hot bath after this," she muttered to herself.

She dropped to her hands and knees and peered over the edge into the dark opening in the ground. To anyone else, the hole would have been a dense blackness, but Max's X-5 eyes caught a glimpse of movement deep in the corner.

"Wait a second…"

Something dark and wet shot out of the hole. Max scrambled backwards, away from the hole, but the thing came whipping towards her and wrapped itself around her wrist. She pulled back, but the something pulled harder. The surface of what looked like a dark rope looked smooth and soft, but as it tightened around her wrist, she could feel its steely strength. The loops seemed to grow and shrink in diameter even as they dragged her steadily toward the yawning opening. As Max groped frantically for a handhold, her hand fell on the shovel handle.

In one movement, Max swung the shovel into the air and brought it down hard on the arm or branch (she couldn't quite decide which it was), slicing it off cleanly. She unwound the loose end from her wrist and watched as the other end slithered silently back into the hole.

Max approached the graveside more cautiously this time. Out of the darkness, another length of something flung itself out of the hole and wrapped itself around her leg. This time, she could clearly see what it was although she could hardly believe it. It looked for all the world like a giant earthworm. Its brownish-pink skin, punctuated by regular ridges was pulsing and stretching. She hacked off another section with the edge of the shovel. The remaining half slid back into the hole more slowly this time.

Max circled the gravesite to come at it from the other side. Now, she stood between the two great holes. Everything was quiet.

Crouching down, she slid one leg over the edge, dangling one foot tantalizingly into the hole. The giant pink worm inched slowly up, wrapping itself firmly around her foot. Max grabbed the slippery thing began to pull it up steadily. She raised the shovel overhead for the final blow.

Suddenly, a dozen green rope-like tendrils shot out of the second hole, wrapping themselves around her chest and her arms. She clawed at the thick, waxy ropes and her hands came away with leaves.

"What the hell?"

Still holding the shovel, she tried to hack at the second monster, but smooth vines held strong. Leaves rustled and what looked like whitish roots sprang up around her, reaching up to grab hold of her too. Max's hand scrabbled at the edge, as she went over into the second hole, dragging the giant pinkish worm along with her.

Just then, a bright light flashed from above.

"Max, where are you?"

"Down here!" Max yelled over the noise of the rustling leaves.

Logan's head appeared over the edge of the hole. Max caught a glimpse of something shiny

"Max! Catch!"

Lunging out, she snagged the pair of pruning shears Logan had tossed down to her.

"Got enough hands for this too?" Logan called down.

With her free hand, she caught the most enormous can of bug spray she had ever seen.

______________________________________________________________________

In a few minutes, Max had made short work of the giant plant and the giant earthworm. She dragged the slimy remains of the earthworm and the mass of tangled vines out of the hole and threw them over the cliff onto the rocks below.

"Did you make sure to get the whole plant out with the roots? You know, otherwise it might grow back." Logan ventured slyly with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, shut up. You _so_ owe me a hot bath."

Max blew a muddy lock of hair out of the face. She glared at Logan, who grinned at her from where he sat, wet, but considerably less muddy than Max.

"Since when did you get such a green thumb anyway, Logan?"

"When you mentioned the book and breakfast, I decided to check out the old bookstore café on Main Street. I found this book on the local history that was full of legends of the 'Little Shop of Horrors' variety and I just put two and two together."

Max arched an eyebrow. "You just put two and two together? And managed to pick up some pruning shears and industrial bug spray?"

"Hey, I guessed well. Anyway, I can't give away all my secrets. You've already got all the super powers," Logan replied, turning to head back toward the tents.

He showed her the set of dog tags with the Manticore logo before stuffing them into his backpack with the bundle of clothes from the casket.

"No sense in the feds getting a hold of these," Logan added.

Slowly, they made their way up the steep path.

"How did you get up here anyway, Logan?"

"I talked the bookstore owner, Hal, into giving me a ride up here. 'Said I needed to bring my girlfriend her breakfast," he said, holding up a now extremely soggy doggy bag.

They crested the hill. Sure enough, a man with a ruddy face waved at them from behind the wheel of a red pickup truck.

"Don't worry, Max. He couldn't see a thing from up here." Logan turned and wheeled over the rough ground back to truck.

Hal took one look at Max's muddy hair and clothes and tossed her a towel.

"You folks need a ride back to your hotel? I gotta go over to the next town to pick up some books anyway"

"That would be great, Hal. You're sure it's not too much trouble?"

The old man tipped his hat.

"Oh, it's no problem. You just make sure you tell people how neighborly we are in Haven. You know, how it's the perfect play for a weekend getaway."

"Oh, don't worry," Max squeezed Logan's hand, "I'm definitely thinking get-away."


End file.
